Turkish Delight
by Lady of the Earth and Sword
Summary: ‘Anything you'd like to eat', the White Witch had said. So, if he could have anything, why did he choose Turkish Delight? Well, besides the fact that it's just so good.


'**Anything you'd like to eat', the White Witch had said. So, if he could have _anything_, why did he choose Turkish Delight? Besides the fact that it's just so darn good.**

**It's kind of idiotic, but give it a go.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own this. You _know_ I don't own this. Why are you reading my disclaimer?**

**Turkish Delight**

_Dear Mr Pevensie:_

_You and your family are cordially invited to the Worthingtons' Annual Christmas Ball from 5:00 to 9:00 in the evening on December the 18th. Please contact the address on the envelope to RSVP or to ask any questions._

'Oh, dear, we simply _must _go!' said Mrs Pevensie. 'Don't you think it would be terrific? And the family's invited as well; we won't be needing a nanny that evening.'

'Rubbish,' said Mr Pevensie, and sat in a chair by the fire. 'The Worthingtons are a bunch of right old snobs and I don't want to expose our children to that sort of behaviour.'

'I think Catherine Worthington is simply lovely, Father,' said Susan from the parlour floor, stitching in a minute thread of her sampler.

'You aren't the only one,' said Lucy, looking up at her brother Edmund.

'Shut up, Lu,' Edmund muttered, his facing turning a nasty shade of pink.

'Ed,' scolded Mrs Pevensie. 'I'll not have you using that language.'

'Sorry, Mum.'

'I think it's a brilliant idea,' interrupted Peter, who could smell trouble a mile off. 'I mean, the Worthingtons aren't all bad. I think they're rather nice.'

'You're outvoted, Robert,' said Mrs Pevensie to her husband, and smiled in the perfect way that all mothers smile.

'I suppose so,' said Mr Pevensie, but looked cheerful anyway.

As things do so often happen, the day of the Worthingtons' ball came, and things were not as they'd been expected to be. Susan fell ill due to a surfeit of raspberry tarts, and Mrs Pevensie was obligated to stay home and look after her. Being that she would be the only girl in the family, Lucy decided not to go in the end and stay, instead, with her mother and sister. 'After all,' said Lucy, 'It wouldn't be too fun in a roomful of grown-ups anyhow.'

So it was only Mr Pevensie, Peter and Edmund that attended the Worthingtons' ball that evening. Edmund, who had never been to a ball before, was astounded at how many times one hostess could shriek, 'Oh, _darling_, I did _so _hope you'd come!'

It was so very delightful and so humming with the delicious Christmas air that Edmund found he couldn't be sulky if he tried. The walls were hung with bright sashes of red and green and gold, and there was a small band of brass horns and fiddles in the balcony. Edmund felt a crimson flush seep in over his face as Catherine Worthington glided past, and he tried his very best to look occupied with other matters.

'Father,' he said, turning away from Catherine and pointing to something on the refreshments table, 'what's this?'

'This, Ed?' said Mr Pevensie, and grinned as he looked at the plate of Edmund's indication. 'Ah, this is something very special, with a very interesting story behind it. Listen, Ed – you too, Peter.

'This sweet is called Turkish Delight, and it's only been around for a while, so you're very lucky to have a chance to eat it. Story goes that there was once a Turkish Sultan who had many wives, and he wanted very much to please them all. So he hired a man to create for him a candy confection that was so beyond compare that no one had ever eaten such a marvellous thing.

'Well, the confectioner was glad to be given such a task, and immediately set to work upon it. After many tries, he'd come up with _this_.' Mr Pevensie held up a sweet. 'A mixture of sugar (which was very new back then), various flavourings, and dried nuts and fruits all held together with the sticky stuff of gum trees.

'The Sultan was so fascinated by it that he named the man Royal Confectioner and had this new sweet served with daily meals. Of course, his wives were just that delighted by it, thereby it was named Turkish Delight.

'And the moral of that is: if you ever meet a lady you want to impress, order Turkish Delight.' Mr Pevensie grinned and bit into a sweet. 'That was how I met your mother.'

Edmund lifted up a piece from the silver platter and bit into it. I do think he would have moaned with the fantastic flavour of it, if Catherine Worthington had not appeared and said, 'Hullo, Edmund.'

Edmund choked and tried his best to swallow the sugary food. 'Hullo, Catherine.' Catherine smiled and looked down at her pearly gloves, and Edmund said, 'Have you tried any of this Turkish Delight yet? It's terrific.'

'No, not yet,' said Catherine, and peered at him from under her glossy brown locks. 'Is it just that terrific?'

'Yes!' said Edmund. 'Oh, do try some.'

Catherine did.

Perhaps it was by mere coincidence, but after eating the Turkish Delight, Catherine didn't leave Edmund's side the entire evening. Grinning proudly on the way home, Edmund decided that he would definitely accept his father's advice from then on. Who knew when it might come in useful?


End file.
